by Bambi Lynn
“Line them up,” one of the Vikings ordered.
He must be the leader of these bastards. Though shorter by a head than Rolf, he was still taller than any other man she had ever seen. His hair, dull with grime, conjured images of the fires of Hell. His face was nearly covered with wiry strands of the same ruddy hue.
His fellows crowded the surviving villagers into a single row. She shuffled along, refusing to relinquish her grip on Wulf. As they faced their conquerors, she tried to nudge him behind her, but he would have no part of it. No doubt he waited for an opportunity to strike. Did the boy have no fear? Mae crowded next to her on the other side, glaring at her like she was to blame.
Guilt washed over her. They should have left when they had the chance. She had convinced them to stay and fight. For what? Their pride? Their meager homes? She glanced around at the near squalor she had lived in her entire life. She had never noticed before how impoverished the village appeared. The dingy, gray buildings needed repair, weeds had overrun the small herb and vegetable gardens. Surely they could have lived at least this good anywhere.
When Red motioned for her modor to be put with the others, Stumpy refused. “This one’s mine,” he said.
Red, sauntered over to them. As he reached out, Stumpy pulled her modor behind him. Blood was about to be spilled.
Wulf wrenched himself from her grasp and darted toward them. With a gasp, Kaylla rushed to help. Before she could reach them, Rolf grabbed Wulf by the scruff of his tunic and hauled him away.
Red turned at all the commotion, just in time to see her hurrying toward them, intent on protecting…someone. With a vicious backhanded swing, he slapped her to the ground.
Jagged gravel cut into her hands and knees as she landed on all fours. Blood pooled in her mouth, the taste metallic and earthy. She spat it at Red’s feet.
The giant man loomed over her. The toe of his filthy leather boot pressed down on her boney knuckles, preventing her from jerking her hand back as pain seared her fingers and crawled up her arm. He reached down and twisted a fist in her hair. Tears stung her eyes when he cruelly yanked her head back. He pressed his face so close to hers, she could smell his rancid breath. The taste of blood combined with the stench, and she feared she would vomit the bile churning in her stomach. A few gulps of air saved her from that humiliation. He grinned down at her. What few teeth remained in his head were sickly yellow and dark with crud. His comrades laughed as he yanked her to her feet with such strength, she cried out. He grabbed her breast with his other hand, squeezing painfully. She struggled within his grasp, determined not to cry out a second time.
“Boddi!”
She recognized Rolf’s voice and tried to snatch away from her captor’s meaty fist as he approached them. Red gripped her arm in a vice so strong she feared the bone would snap.
“I thought you had turned tail and sailed for home.” He stopped before them, effortlessly hauling a struggling Wulf. Her baby brother’s hands were tied behind him, or he might have been too much for a man of lesser strength than Rolf.
“Rolf Bloodhands. We thought you perished with the rest of the king’s crew.”
Kaylla did not miss the clench of Rolf’s fists, the flush of his cheeks. Still, he kept his tone light.
He handed Wulf off to Stumpy. “Stake your claim as you will, but put the boy with the others.”
With a sideways glance, Stumpy made a wide birth around the two Vikings, dragging his prisoners along. She relaxed a little. At least her modor and Wulf were out of harm’s way.
Rolf turned his attention back to Red, the man he had called Boddi. “You are disappointed.”
Boddi grunted but did not answer right away. The tension between them sparked the air like a lightning storm. Finally, Boddi asked, “How came you to be here?” He scanned the village.
She followed his gaze around the courtyard, littered with the bodies of her slain kinsmen. A few Viking carcasses were scattered here and there. Gravel and wet sand soaked up the life’s blood of a village already facing hard times. She blinked back tears. The shreds of her pride already waning.
Ignoring Boddi’s question, Rolf lifted his chin in her direction. “I have had this one already. I know you prefer your whores untouched.”
Her knees nearly buckled. Hot tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. Turning her face away, she quickly swiped her free hand across her face.
She winced as Boddi grabbed her chin, pulling her around to face him. He regarded her with a leer that made her cringe. He lifted a handful of her hair and rubbed it against his lips. “She entices me. Besides, I thought you did not like women.” The Norsemen laughed, a nervous, uncertain sound that failed to relieve the tension.
Rolf joined them as though sharing a joke with old friends. “Enticing she is. Still, I have so few possessions left, I would hate to lose this one.” He gripped his sword tighter.
The Norsemen closed in on them.
“Stay back!” Boddi’s fat lips stretched into a mocking grin. “You do not want to cross swords with Rolf Bloodhands, defender of women and … small boys. He could slice you in half with one stroke.” He held Kaylla at arm’s length and raked his lecherous gaze up and down the length of her body. “She must be mighty rousing in the bed furs…to mean so much”
“She means nothing, yet she is always warm and wet.”
His words seemed to knock the breath from her. The trembling that had tried to overtake her before the attack threatened to bring her to her knees.
“Look around you,” Rolf continued. “The only plunder to be had here is whores for you and your men. Choose another.” His tone showed he would brook no argument.
Boddi studied him, considering the challenge. Finally, he shoved her to the ground at Rolf’s feet. Sharp pain seared her already bruised hands and knees.
He made no move to help her up. Broken and dejected, she stood carefully and cowered behind him.
Boddi scanned the line of slaves, his gaze landing on Rheda. She immediately broke from the group, causing a moment of chaos. She ran for her life towards the woods surrounding the village but was quickly apprehended by some of Boddi’s men. They dragged her back, biting and clawing. They laughed at her struggle.
The muscle in Rolf’s jaw twitched.
As soon as they plopped her down in front of Boddi, Rheda stood deathly still. They no longer needed to restrain her. She looked up at him, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She sobbed uncontrollably, wringing her hands and begging him with mumbled words that were impossible to understand, drawing more laughter from the Norsemen.
“You know I’m going to punish you for running away.” Boddi’s grin was darkest evil.
Without warning, Rheda pulled a knife from somewhere. She held it straight at his groin, keeping her tormentor just out of reach. She had a wild look. Her eyes stretched wide, round. She keep darting her gaze from side to side as the Vikings closed in around her.
Boddi, intent on protecting his important parts, was not prepared when Rheda suddenly turned the knife and plunged the blade into her chest. He bellowed in rage and slapped her hard across the face.
She died before she hit the ground.
Kaylla covered her face, stifling a scream and blocking out the sight of Rheda’s lifeless form lying just steps away. What must she have endured from this man that she would so brutally take her own life rather than be his slave?
Boddi’s anger soon trickled to irritation. He could easily pick a new plaything from the booty he had just won.
He did a quick count of the captives. “Only sixteen in all,” he grumbled. “Bring the maids to me.” While the Vikings rounded them all up, he spoke to Rolf. “The Anglican king, Eadwald, holds a fort among the marshes near Axning. He is the only remaining king on this peninsula. Since our own king named no successor, I shall claim my birthright upon Eadwald’s defeat.”
Rolf stiffened, but his voice sounded calm. “Your ambition, Boddi, remains legend.”
“Can I co
unt on you to serve me as you did my uncle?”
Rolf bowed his head so slightly, she almost did not notice. “I loved your uncle like a father. My loyalty does not waver.”
Boddi considered him. Strange that he would regard Rolf the same as she. Could he be trusted? “So be it. We march to Axning at cock’s crow.”
More than a handful of girls were ushered over for Boddi’s inspection. A few of them he sent away after a mere glance. “Too young.” Of those remaining, one was not just a maid, but an old maid. Udela had never caught the eye of a man. And for good reason. This day she had the bad luck to catch Boddi’s eye. “This one’s no maid.”
“Aye, Boddi, she is. We checked.” The men all laughed.
Boddi stepped closer, gave her a hard look. “You are the ugliest woman I have ever seen. No wonder you’ve never know a man’s cock. Who would risk planting his seed in you?” The Vikings chuckled at his crude jest. He grabbed Udela at the juncture of her thighs, bunching her skirt in his meaty fist and squeezing it between her legs. “My cock will be filling your ugly cunt soon enough.”
Udela whimpered, choking back a sob. Her rounded eyes rolled to where Rheda lay in a pool of blood.
“Bind her and put her with my share of the loot.” He glanced around, finally settling on William’s forge. “In that hovel over there.” He surveyed the captured slaves. “Confine the rest to a single hut,” Boddi barked at his men. “One guard should do. Sate your pleasure, then gather the men in the hall one hour before sundown.”
“What of that one?” The man who spoke nodded in Kaylla’s direction.
She stepped closer to Rolf. He stood taller, stiffer if that was possible.
For a long, tense moment, he and Boddi stared at each other. Though he said nothing, she sensed that Rolf would do battle on her behalf if it came to that. The smallest flame of hope flared within her.
Finally, Boddi answered. “Put her with the others.”
Chapter Sixteen
Rolf forced himself not to watch. He nearly had to turn completely away to do so, but he wanted to be sure the man followed instructions. From the corner of his eye, he could see him put Kaylla in Mae’s hut with the others, just as he had been told. Boddi had already retired to the privacy of the forge, usually the warmest dwelling in any village. It was just past midday so he had hours to kill, torturing his new slave, degrading her in the most perverted of ways.
He could hear the woman’s pleas from here.
He gritted his teeth, fists clenched at his sides. He knew the humiliation that girl would suffer at Boddi’s hands. But just like before, he was powerless to help her. He had Kaylla to think about now. He valued her welfare above all others.
She was safe for now, leastwise, locked away with her brother and the rest of that ungrateful lot. He had not missed the accusing glares she had received from some of the women, like she was to blame for their misfortune. Did they not see how she sacrificed for them?
He shook his head. He refused to be distracted. There would be time later for him to teach her to take care of others without letting them walk all over her.
He hoped there would be time.
Emotions, deadly enough on a good day, warred within him. He owed allegiance to his brethren, yet he longed to see Kaylla’s passion expressed through something besides fear…and lust.
Lust.
That was the good part.
Her passion ignited him. She showed no inhibitions in the bed furs. Even now, his entire body grew hard at the fantasies he hoped they would live to explore.
He yearned to relieve her fears, to soothe her worries. He wanted her to enjoy life. He intended to uncover her layer by layer. Right down to her core. He knew that buried in there was a woman who could make the whole world a happier place.
She tried to coax everyone else into a positive outlook, but, except for the brief times they’d engaged in love play, there had been a level of tension that suppressed her sunny disposition. He would do everything in his power to ensure she lived to spread that vivaciousness around.
But how could he save her and still remain loyal to his clan?
So much for not getting distracted.
He decided to focus his attention on gathering the dead. He gathered up the corpses one after another and piled them on the ocean side of the settlement. The bodies of the villagers weighed next to nothing. These people had not eaten well for some time.
Two men he did not know hauled three dead Norsemen to the pile. Three! He felt a bizarre sense of pride that the villagers had done so well. His teachings had probably saved some innocent lives this day.
But saved them for what?
He tried to ignore the rape and pillage going on around him. The anguished cries of women, the raucous laughter of depraved men. Many of them took turns on the same woman, prolonging her agony. He was ever amazed at the brutality of his own countrymen.
It made him sick.
He looked a little closer at Boddi’s men. Most he did not recognize. Those he did were well-known as the most ruthless of King Ulfrik’s clan. How had these debauchers come together as a group under Boddi’s command?
Rolf was all for capturing the bounty available for the taking, satisfied to fight men of skill to gain it. But to murder and totally subjugate the populace? It was not necessary. These were simple people. The land was rich. A man could live here.
He had come to Rheda’s body. He stood over her, remembering the woman, barely more than a girl, determined to defend herself against further assault. Squatting beside her, he rolled her gently to her back and pulled the knife from her chest. He studied it, gripping it as he had done many times while teaching her how to wield it.
At least he had done that for her. Boddi would torture her no more.
He nearly cringed at the angst-ridden cries that emanated from the smith’s hut. The same could not be said for that one. Maybe she would get lucky, and Boddi would be killed in the ensuing confrontation with Eadwald.
Memories of the attack on Ulfrik’s fleet, seldom far from his thoughts, pricked at the outskirts of his mind. He had wondered about it many times since waking in Kaylla’s hut. He had known from the beginning that they were betrayed by one of their own. That one ship off Wind Tamer’s starboard side…
Recollection had come to him in disconnected morsels. During the attack, he had been intent on getting to the traitor. A single thought had plagued him.
Treachery.
He squeezed the handle of the knife until his fingers grew numb. Boddi had always been hell-bent on being Ulfrik’s heir. The king had died with no sons. Not that he hadn’t tried. There was no one to challenge Boddi’s succession.
Why did I not pay more attention to the crew?
It would have made little difference. Boddi was the traitor. He had done it all. Under the guise of enemy, he had attacked the king’s sparse fleet, a few long boats on a simple trading mission. It all came became clear to him now.
He took a deep, steadying breath. He had to think. He would not succeed if he went rushing headlong into a confrontation with Boddi. He was far too outnumbered. He could not let his hatred of the man drive him to be rash. For him to overcome all these men, to have any chance of sparing Kaylla, he needed to be rational.
Bits and pieces of a plan started to form in his mind. Much like the collection of dark clouds that swirled overhead. Perhaps he could get a few of Boddi’s men to take up his cause. It would not take many, not if they were the right men.
He took in the scene around him. The two helping him gather the dead did not seem of a like mind as their leader. A couple of others milled about, acting interested, although they were obviously not into the plundering.
By now, the men had relieved themselves at least once and were beginning to turn their attention to other, more valuable booty. They would find none here. The women, girls mostly, were herded like cattle into the hut with the other slaves and forgotten. Boddi emerged from the smith’s hut, lugged out his b
ig dick and pissed right by the door.
He swallowed a growl at the thought of that man’s filthy hands on his Kaylla.
His.
He picked up Rheda’s lifeless body, light as a sack of grain, and hauled her over his shoulder. He walked toward where Boddi stood tucking himself away. With barely suppressed rage, he regulated his breathing, softened his grip on the knife. Every movement was controlled. From inside the hut, he could still hear the girl’s faint whimpers.
Boddi regarded him as he approached. No doubt wondering at the extent of this threat.
He blocked out the girl. “How dost plan to defeat Eadwald with less than thirty men? Surely he is backed by a small army even at an outpost like Axning.”
Boddi shook his head. “My spies tell me he marches with just a small group of soldiers. They are on their way to join with a larger contingent that will have a much better chance of defending against our invasion.”
“And then?”
“The people call this Anglia. I shall be their king. There is nothing left for us in Noregr. Our clan barely survived this past winter. After Eadwald is defeated, we will fetch those who are left.”
“And subjugate the people who live here?”
Boddi shrugged. “Somebody has to lose.”
Rolf gritted his teeth, but kept his tone light. “There is much good farming land here. And fishing. More than enough for our people to begin anew. You need not make slaves of everyone.”
Boddi grinned, revealing yellowed broken teeth. “My men need women. There are few to pick from in our own clan. Many will have already chosen new mates among our neighbors, but those who wish to start a new life can come here. We will choose only the strongest of women from this land to breed with.”
Rolf inclined his head toward the now silent hut. “Like that one?”
Boddi nodded. “She may be hard to look at, but she will bear me strong sons. A woman like that is grateful for a man to fuck her and warm her bed on cold nights.”
He doubted that woman would ever be grateful for Boddi’s attention, but he said nothing. He shifted the dead weight on his shoulder, intending to put Rheda with the others before the pyre was lit. But Boddi’s next words stopped him in his tracks.
